


Natural Selection

by gardnerhill



Series: Cats and Dogs Living Together [9]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not a high-functioning sociopath – he’s a <i>cat</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Selection

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #25, brought to you by that song (you know the one): **Moved by Music.** Choose any music that moves you, and use that as the inspiration for today's entry. Make sure to note what music you chose in the header information - and a link to it would be even better!
> 
> My inspiration: [This hit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEtbfzMLVWU) from a one-hit-wonder band in the 1980s.  
> 

Tomcat urine. My ears flattened and I bared my teeth in distaste. The signature sharpened – urine from four other toms, blood from two toms as well as from my associate, semen, a hint of queen-cat. Another successful night.

“Enjoy yourself?” I didn’t have to raise my tone, for Shock’s hearing was as sharp as my nose.

A thump above me as Shock landed neatly on his crate. “She was worth it.”

Not a lot of his blood-smell; so he wouldn’t need me to clean any major wounds. “You’d be a lot happier if you were neutered, Shock.”

Dragging, wet sounds. Shock was washing his forelegs. No response to me.

“You’re injured again from fighting. You stink of cat pee. And another litter of kittens must survive on the street.”

“Not my concern.”

I growled a little in raw anger. “You had no trouble tracking down the man who was going to drown that Poodle’s pups, but your own children don’t mean anything to you!”

“Army dog.” Shock was as cold as I’ve ever heard him. “Although your observational skills are sadly lacking compared to mine, I would have thought you could have discerned when we first met that I – am a cat.” Just a touch of amusement now, but still cold. “Tell me you would be as tender-hearted if you still had your testicles and smelled a bitch on heat – would the thought of stray pups stop you?”

I gnawed on my kipper tin to vent my anger – made stronger by realising that Shock was right. Animal natures can be cruel things.

Shock might be a master of perception and understanding, but did not feel for the clients in most cases. Sometimes I envied him, for most dogs live to love and can be hurt because of it.

I missed my human, whom I had not seen nor smelled since we got out of the hot noisy fighting place; I missed the hand on my head, the scratched ears, the tick-free coats, even the bad-smelling baths that took the fleas away. Now I almost wanted to howl in sorrow, thinking of kittens that were barely a thought in their mother’s belly.

I am not the thinker in our partnership, but then my ears went up as something occurred to me. Shock might not care about or for his offspring. That did not mean I could not! I could find food for them, clean them, even tend them if the mother needed to hunt her own food.

I settled in to finish my sleep as the night sky began to lighten with the sun.

***

My sense of smell is my pride and joy – and is the one faculty even Shock admits is sharper than his own. It only took one day of diligent nosework to track down the queen pregnant with my partner’s litter, and to approach her to offer my assistance with her impending family situation.

This time I was the one who came back to our alley smelling of my own blood.

Shock sat on his crate with his back to me above the adoring, stupid gaze of an Irish Setter – a client. “Stay, Johnny, stay,” Shock said without turning around or twitching a whisker, even as I was about to leave the alley so he could continue his work. “This will require both of us.”

Which meant this case would need nosework – and possibly me fighting off bigger dogs whilst my cat partner fled after insulting them.

“A dog! A dog! A dog! A dog!” The Setter lolled his tongue.

“Yes. I am, indeed, a dog.” I flopped and began to clean my scratches.

Shock’s voice was as cool as ever, with his amused cleverness in the tone. “A dog who has just learned all over again how fiercely independent cats are, and just why the females are called ‘queens.’”

He hadn’t tried to stop me. Sometimes a dog needs the bite on the nose to learn something. And it was as close as he would come to taunting me that once again he’d been right and I’d been wrong. I rubbed a paw on my scratched muzzle. Lesson learned.

Shock addressed the Setter. “Please tell us your story again, Big Red, for my partner’s benefit.”

I cocked my head. “’Red?’”

“It’s a human concept, Army dog.” The cat continued his work. “Tell us once again about this League of Red-Headed Hounds you joined.”


End file.
